The Training Master
by Kypriotha
Summary: A series of snapshots capturing the evolution of Wyldon's relationship with Kel. Written for Fief Goldenlake's Malorie's Peak Prompt #66 'From Minor to Major'.


**MPP #66 - The Training Master**

The training master sat at his desk, reading over a note from the king. The note was courteous and carefully expressed only the facts ('the Mindelan's are our diplomats to the Yamani Isles'; 'the request is valid under the proclamation of ten years ago'), but he knew what the king wanted. What he wanted him to say.

Which was exactly what he _couldn't_ say. It went against everything he believed in. Surely the king knew this. How could he – the king who preached justice and fairness – force this girl on to him against his will?

He scrunched up the note and gritted his teeth. He hoped the king was open to compromise.

...

The training master stood behind his desk, arms folded neatly behind him as he stared out the window. The sparrows in the courtyard heralded the coming of spring, but he was blind to their antics. He had a decision to make and he'd been grappling with his conscience about it for the last week.

He still believed the training yards were not an appropriate place for a girl to be. It wasn't that he believed females were weak – his own wife was proof that wasn't the case. But there was a certain…roughness…about the life of knight that he didn't think a girl should be exposed to. He certainly wouldn't expose any of his daughters to it.

But he had made a promise and he was a man of his word. As much as it pained him to admit it, the girl had met all the conditions and expectations he had set for her. Duty and honour dictated his next move. And yet…he hadn't yet been able to bring himself to actually say the words at loud. They were a blow to his pride and he wished, for the first time in his life, that he could put off doing his duty. But his honour was stronger than his pride – just? – and he knew he would send for her tonight.

...

The training master stood by his desk, waiting for his visitor to arrive. The Lord Magistrate's note, which lay on the desk beside him, was brief and to the point, but he thought he sensed some underlying agitation. This was unusual for the Lord Magistrate, but perhaps not so unusual in the circumstances. In light of them, he thought – he hoped – he knew what the Lord Magistrate would say.

If he was wrong, he would look the fool, for he had already told the kitchen to cancel the fancy dinner they had planned.

But if anyone deserved to be given a second chance at the big examinations, it was Page Keladry. He didn't think even he, a veteran knight of the realm, could have made that climb in those conditions and with such a heavy burden.

...

The former training master was packing up his desk when there was a knock on his open door. He was not surprised by his visitor, though a part of him still had enough pride to wish she didn't have to see him like this. Beaten down – blinded – by a boy; a mere boy, who she had seen right through when no one else could.

He invited her in anyway. If he owed anyone an explanation, it was her. He intended to give it to her. He had _not_ intended for it to be turned around into the greatest compliment he had ever received in his time as a knight. He wasn't sure he deserved it – he wasn't sure he deserved _her_, not when he had done everything he could to get rid of her.

Still, in a part of him so deep inside he only shared it with his wife, and even then only rarely, he was glad she had come. Both to Corus 6 years ago and to his office now. It gave him hope that he had produced at least one Squire he could be proud of.

...

The fort commander paced by his desk. He had been doing it on and off all day – when he wasn't needed to run that fort and prepare for a big assault, at least. The visit of the Knight Commander of the King's Own had been a most unwelcome interruption. He hadn't needed him to point just how big a mistake he had made. Never mind about Goldenlake not forgiving him if anything happened to her – he would never forgive himself.

It wasn't just the Lady Knight he was concerned about. He didn't want to lose the squire he had put so much effort into training and the knight-mage he had just started to like. Well, get used to. Even in his distracted state he didn't think he could go as far as to actually _like_ Queenscove.

He was not a particularly devout man – he respected the gods, of course, and attended all the proper services – but he'd never personally felt the need to appeal to them. He had always felt in control of his own life and destiny, to the extent he believed in destiny at all. Honour and duty were much more important to him and he didn't think they were the kind of things one needed to bother the gods about.

He thought now might be a good time to start. Anything to help Keladry get out of Scanra alive. The realm needed her and, more importantly, to him at least, he didn't want her to pay the price for his mistakes.


End file.
